


𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 ( 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 )

by morbidlypicturesque



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Birthday present for my fellow Ren whore, Dark!Rey, Dominant Kylo Ren, F/M, Healer, Im a slut for a good Middle Ages fic you know, Inappropriate Use of the Force, King Kylo can have my ass, Kingdom of Alderaan, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Light Choking, Light Dom/sub, Luke is a Priest of the Force, Main character is a doctor, Medieval Medicine, Queen Leia slays my existence even beyond grave, Reader-Insert, Royal AU we all need, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader kink, Time Travel, We’re here for the plot, always add some witchcraft, no beta we die like men, the knights of ren
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:15:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25922683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morbidlypicturesque/pseuds/morbidlypicturesque
Summary: When a doctor in training, Barbara, wakes up in a forrest the morning after her fifth graduation anniversary the last thing she expected was to find herself thrown into an alternative past, plunged straight into the messy politics of the Kingdom of Alderaan, hanging on the brink of a civil war against a vengeful heiress of Duchy of Exegol, Lady Rey Palpatine and her cunning uncle, Count Snoke.She did not expect King Kylo Ren to be so inexplicably dark and handsome either.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Original Female Character(s), Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You





	𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 ( 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 )

**Author's Note:**

  * For [For Barbara](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=For+Barbara).



> For my other half, my shoulder to cry on, my soul sister and endless support through thick and thin.  
> B, I dedicate this short story to you as a very late birthday present ( God, you're 19 already! )  
> Also because we all thirst for Medieval!Kylo.
> 
> All the love from your girl, J.

_I am never, ever drinking again_ — at least that's what I told myself, and the five of my closest friends before we set off to the quiant, family owned restaurant downtown for our fifth graduation anniversary, meticulously organised by the former chair of student committee who — even after half a decade — took her job very seriously and with the same dictatorial authority with which she made a florist cry because of the messed up order of roses for our prom.

It's a real shame she works in a bank now. She would've made a wicked wedding planner.

The tedious, four-hour-four-course dinner required a liquor based emotional support, and by dessert it consisted of a copious amount of dry martinis and a cheeky sip of the homemade cherry schnapps Jen managed to smuggle in her handbag and we then proceeded to drink in the bathroom.

For a moment we were eighteen again and sneaking off on our prom night to grab a drink in front of the venue — in the bushes, where we were sure nobody could see us — now more than ever needing a significant kick to our senses so as to survive the tasteless showing off by our former classmates, flashing of overpriced engagement rings and hollow babbling that usually revolved around attractive internships abroad and even more attractive spouses whose Instagram profiles we _( very non-judgementally, of course )_ stalked few days prior.

Really, it was high school all over again, but with less pimples and more money.

A few very awkward conversations with our former professors later, once it was deemed socially acceptable, we sneaked out and walked down to our favourite bar, the one where we used to regularly occupy the corner table — the one near the window that overlooked the harbour, but hidden enough so no one could spot us from the entrance if we were skipping class — and where we spilled dozens of our deepest secrets and drank even more gin and tonics, before the inevitable happened and the university made us split apart and walk down our own roads.

_No regrets_ , we promised to each other, and wherever life took us we'd always find a way back home.

It must have been nearing midnight because our favourite bartender Joe — _well_ , Paula hated him because of his ancient, properly Boomer jokes that belonged solely on a cringey Facebook 'wannabe hip adult' page — was already wiping down the tables that left not long ago and pretended to be counting money in his wallet just so we could catch his intention and leave earlier.

Instead I snorted lightly to myself, enjoying the quiet moment in which the conversation flowed freely around me, leaving me with a moment of reprieve in which I could observe my friends who sat on the plush, velvet seats around me, worn out from the years of use, missing the brass pins that once connected the upholstery with the chairs.

Jen sat next to me, and Paula and Nina shared a loveseat on the side, Paula's thin, lanky arms thrown carelessly over the shorter ones shoulders. Carla was typing away furiously on the phone, in her work mode without a break, managing all her social media accounts without a proper PR agent. She doesn't trust them, she says, and shed'd rather be a mid range youtuber, but proud of her content and with free reigns to do as she liked with her image. Maryanne, or Mary — Nina called her that on the first day of high school and it stuck — helped her with graphic design for her channel when she could, especially now that she worked close to Carla's downtown, industrial style studio she shared with her boyfriend.

The five of them were a breath of fresh air, a different world entirely from the ( mostly ) stuck up interns I was condemned to on my fifth year of Med School. I never regretted my decision, though, and I know I never will — helping, healing others, making a smile appear back onto their face was the greatest thing I could do with my abilities.

Sometimes I wondered if that was my calling, the mythical meaning of life people drone on about, to give all of myself into taking care of others, even if it meant twenty four hour shifts on Christmas, or skipping dinner dates to hold your patient's hand because they asked you to.

It definitely had an impact on every aspect of my life, which I knew even without my friends making not so subtle remarks on the matter.

"When was the last time you did anything remotely fun? And I don't mean a sexy new suture thread on a stab wound fun, but like regular, Friday night fun?" Nina raised one of her dark, styled eyebrows in my direction.

The geophysics major that maintained a facade of a spunky, rebellious metalhead, revealed underneath one of the most down to earth, wise women I knew. It would be ridiculous to name all the moments when she was there to be my unconditional pillar of support, with matters great or small. Now, however, she was a proper pain.

My red painted lips parted slightly. "Lies! Peter's wedding in March," I denied her accusation vehemently, hiding my face behind the wide brim of the martini glass.

"Doesn't count." Jen shook her head, taking a drag of her smoke and exhaling it away from the rest of us. For a supposted quitter, she was on her fifth already.

"I declare it unaccountable since the last thing I remember is the main course and that's about it."

Paola was first to scoff and roll her eyes at the freshly graduated Master of Medieval Studies. "Sure, you don't remember making out with Mark, that's why the two of you couldn't make eye contact tonight." It was a known and confirmed fact that Mark had a crush on Jen since school, but the Junior Accountant could never really compare to the colourful array of her exes, starting with Alex the trust fund baby, up to her current boyfriend, Thomas the rising entrepreneur and CEO of his own IT company.

To put it plainly, his pining was mildly pathetic and quite sad, but on that particular eve of our friend Peter's wedding, Jen was nursing a pretty bad heartbreak and it just so happened that Mark found himself in the right place at the right time _( after she consumed at least five margaritas and unknown amounts of champagne )._

We filmed it, of course, and like true best friends weren't ever going to let her forget it.

"Treachery!" The brunette screeched, throwing a scrunched up receipt in Paola's direction. Our resident psychologist cackled loudly, ducking behind Nina's arm.

"But she did tap that best man. That's gotta count as something," Mary tried to reason, shrugging her shoulders from the beanbag on the floor. Carla unlatched her head from her phone for a moment and nodded her head in a fair enough motion. The rest followed suit.

A strangled groan came out of my mouth, and I let my forehead hit the cold surface of the table. "Hello, I'm right here and I feel really uncomfortable when you talk about my love life, or the lack of it, without me," I waved my hand above my head, "And don't even remind me of Bruno."

I admit, as much as I loved my job, beyond words, I tended to lack the regular social life most of my peers enjoyed, which in the long run lacked the romance side of it, too.

"We should do it like back in the olden days," Nina lowered her pint and looked at the rest of us. There was something unsettling, a wicked glimmer in her brown eyes that could only mean trouble was incoming. "Tonight, I mean. All in, like that weekend after the finals."

Her chair roomie was first to react. "You sure we still got the stamina?"

"Why, don't think you can hold your liquor, grandma?"

"Prepare to be wrecked, bitch."

"I'm in."

"Me too."

Their heads finally turned to me. "Barbie?" I groaned slightly at the familiar nickname.

What's wrong with enjoying a chill night at home, watching re-runs of Sex and the City with a glass of Hendricks? Or a good 50s movie, bringing all the nostalgia of old Hollywood.

Still, I couldn't help the smile growing on my face as I shook my head with a laugh. "You girls will be the death of me."


End file.
